


Holding Hands

by under_a_linden_tree



Series: under_a_linden_tree's prompt ficlets [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Canon, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24953815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_a_linden_tree/pseuds/under_a_linden_tree
Summary: During their meal at the Ritz, Aziraphale finds it hard to reach for Crowley's hand.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: under_a_linden_tree's prompt ficlets [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755112
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65
Collections: GO-DIWS Prompt Sprints





	Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> We had 20 minutes to write a ficlet for the promt "holding hands". This is the result.

An almost tangible silence has fallen between the two of them, halfway through their lunch. Aziraphale doesn’t know what brought about this sudden change, this shift in the air, but he can feel it clearly. Centuries of unspoken words hang between them, bearing down on them like boulders, pressing all his courage out of him.

His hand is still resting on the tablecloth and -- thank God -- it doesn’t tremble. He could have sworn it would, seeing how the rest of him is brimming with anxious anticipation. Crowley’s is lying not far from his own, having slipped from the handle of his coffee cup a few moments ago. It almost seemed as though he was wanting to reach out, too.

It shouldn’t be that hard, should it? It’s just a touch, a gentle lingering motion, a brush of skin against skin. Nothing that changes worlds, that shifts planets in their orbits or lets continents drift apart. He did it yesterday, on the bus, when they both thought that it would be the last chance he might ever get, too precious to let it go by unseized. And yet, it frightens Aziraphale to reach out now, as though it were a leap from the top of a high cliff, falling down into the unknown.

It’s not the unknown, though, is it? Not when he knows that Crowley is there to catch him. So he reaches over before he can ponder it for too long, before he starts questioning himself. He can feel the warmth of Crowley’s hand under his, remaining steadily in place, even though he can tell that Crowley is looking at him from the corner of his eye. Aziraphale hesitates for a moment while he marvels at the thin shape of Crowley’s hand, the slight dusting of dark hair at the wrist.

All of a sudden, the hand is turned, offering an open palm to him. He fits his own against it and it feels so right, when skin presses against calloused skin and fingers entangle once more. It’s not too much, he realises, it’s not going too fast, not anymore. In a world of their own, they can do whatever they want, at whatever speed they wish to take. And what Aziraphale wants right now is to never let go of that hand again, feel the warmth of it throughout the rest of lunch, on the way back to the bookshop, and maybe, if he’s lucky, through another afternoon spent on the sofa, without any of the worry or stress of the last eleven years weighing down on them.

Crowley smiles at him, a small and gentle thing, far gentler than he’d ever care to admit, and Aziraphale knows that he feels the same way. There’s something indulgent about this afternoon, the golden glow that suddenly seems to tint everything. He can feel it seep through every fibre of his being, culminating in the warmth beneath his palm. He can feel the love that is surrounding them, most obvious in the gentle circles that Crowley’s thumb is rubbing across the back of Aziraphale’s hand. It’s odd, isn’t it, how such a simple gesture can let one feel so loved and safe at the same time.

And if this is what the rest of his life is going to be like, Aziraphale has nothing to complain about. It’s all going to be rather lovely.


End file.
